


looking for you

by sparxwrites



Series: University AU [1]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: (incredibly), (very very vaguely though), Alternate Universe - College/University, Exhibitionism, Fluff, Genital Piercing, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Masturbation, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning, Sleepy Cuddles, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 17:03:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6865027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparxwrites/pseuds/sparxwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“No way,” said Parv, eyes wide, staring at Ridge like he’d never seen him before. “No way. Get out.”</p><p>Ridge grinned, lips curling up at the edges and smoke curling out through the gap between his two front teeth. “Oh, yeah,” he said, lazily, smoke spilling from his mouth with every word. “Eighteenth birthday present to myself.” He leant back against the wall behind his bed in an expansive sprawl, kicking the rucked-up bedcovers to one side so he had more room to spread his legs. “Best goddamn present I ever got, I can tell you that.”</p><p>(Ridge and Parv chat, and smoke - and things are a little fucked up, but that's okay. So are they.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	looking for you

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes, u just get a craving to write shitty uni aus with weird aesthetics, ok. it was _your smile_ last year, and it’s whatever this shit is this year, i guess. written to [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=boYQovCybYQ), ‘cos obviously french eurovision is the ideal to write this kinda stuff to?? and when i say “written to”, i mean “i spent eight hours yesterday w that song on repeat and wrote all of this in that space of time”.

“No way,” said Parv, eyes wide, staring at Ridge like he’d never seen him before. “No _way_. Get out.”

Ridge grinned, lips curling up at the edges and smoke curling out through the gap between his two front teeth. “Oh, yeah,” he said, lazily, smoke spilling from his mouth with every word. “Eighteenth birthday present to myself.” He leant back against the wall behind his bed in an expansive sprawl, kicking the rucked-up bedcovers to one side so he had more room to spread his legs. “Best goddamn present I ever got, I can tell you that.”

Perched on Ridge’s desk chair at the edge of Ridge’s bed like an overeager, anxious bird, Parv licked his lips. “You’re shitting me,” he said, taking another drag on the blunt and holding the warmth of the smoke in his lungs for several long heartbeats before blowing it out in Ridge’s general direction. “You’re actually shitting me, c’mon, Ridge, you _wouldn’t_.”

“Am not.” Ridge leant forward to snatch the joint from Parvis’ fingers, wiggling his eyebrows. “I can prove it, y’know. Wanna see it?”

Before Parv had time to respond beyond his cheeks pinking, mouth rounding in a circle of surprise, there was a knock on the door - more of a hammer, really, angry thumping and a jiggle of the doorknob. “Ridge!” came the tense, distinctly displeased tones of an annoyed Kirin through the cheap plywood when it became evident the door was locked. “The entire flat smells of pot.”

“You want some?” called Ridge back, smirking despite the fact Kirin couldn’t possibly see, licking at his teeth as his eyes glittered with amused mischief. Parv giggled. “Plenty to go around, honeybunches.”

Kirin _growled_. “No!” he snapped, voice louder - he’d evidently pressed his face against the door. “Just- open a window or something. I do _not_ want to fail the next landlord inspection because of your little _habit_.” When several seconds passed, and there was no audible response other than Parv’s continued giggles at the way Ridge was rolling his eyes and making _blah blah blah_ gestures with his free hand, Kirin banged on the door again. “Ridge!”

“Yeah, yeah!” called Ridge back, nose wrinkled in a frown. “Sure, whatever, I’ll open a window.”

Another lungful of smoke eased away the frown lines as Kirin’s footsteps faded down the corridor. “ _God_ , I miss sharing with Bebop,” he muttered, tipping his head back and dropping his jaw to exhale slow and steady towards the ceiling. “He needs to get that damn stick out of his ass. S’what you get for doing a PhD, though.”

He leant over to flip the latch on the tiny window next to him, pushing it up and letting in the dying tail-end of a sharp spring breeze. Outside, the sky was fading deep blue-purple to black, tinged yellowy at the edges with street lamps and queues of traffic headlights. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed, and then cut short. Across the road, someone yelled at a passing car, voice muffled and laced with curses.

Ridge stuck his head out of the window, into the cool air of early night, looked out over the city, and exhaled.

“Better to be a trust fund baby bumming off of mummy and daddy’s fortune, huh?” asked Parv, cheekily, grinning as Ridge pulled his head in from the window to scowl at him. “What? I’m just saying...”

“Better watch that fuckin’ mouth of yours, kid,” said Ridge, lazily, licking at his teeth again - a bad habit he’d picked up somewhere and had never bothered to kick, like so many others - before taking a long drag of the joint. “Someone’s gonna shove something in it, one of these days, if you’re not careful.” He eyed Parvis thoughtfully, gaze half-lidded and golden in the glow of the street lamps outside. “Or just break your goddamn jaw, I guess.”

Parvis giggled, nervous and giddy all at once, and leant in to try and - unsuccessfully - swipe the joint out of Ridge’s fingers. “Just telling it how it is, Ridgey,” he said, pouting as he retreated back into the chair, propping his chin up on one knee. “Parvy speaks only the truth.”

“ _Parvy_ sounds like an asshole when he talks about himself in the third person,” retorted Ridge, snorting. He waved the joint in the air, burnt halfway down, and raised an eyebrow. “You’re gonna have to come over here and get this if you want it, by the way, ‘cos I ain’t fuckin’ moving.”

Pouting even harder, Parv eyed the expanse of bed between them, debating the merits of moving versus the actual _effort_ of moving. “You’re a dick,” he complained, hauling himself out the chair and half-flopping across the bed to tuck himself into the space between Ridge and the corner the bed had been pushed into.

It was a tight fit, but he managed it, pulling his skinny frame and overlong limbs into what space there was until Ridge shuffled up towards the window to accommodate. Wriggling a little to nudge the pillow half-underneath him into a more comfortable position, and accidentally elbowing Ridge in the ribs in the process, he managed to settle himself.

When he reached for the joint, though, Ridge still held it just out of reach.

“Aww, come-” he started - only to quiet when Ridge pressed first a finger to his lips in a _shh_ gesture, and then the joint. He held it there, still and silent and expectant, until Parvis, ever so hesitantly, parted his lips and leant in.

There was something oddly intimate about the action, putting his lips where he knew Ridge’s had been just moments before, feeling them brush against Ridge’s fingers as they parted and then closed again. This close, he could hear Ridge’s breath as he closed his eyes, and inhaled slow and even until he was dizzy with the proximity and the warmth coiling at the bottom of his lungs.

“So,” said Ridge, as he pulled the joint away to slip it between his own lips for a moment. Parvis’ eyes opened again, slowly, and he let the smoke trickle out of the corner of his mouth. “You wanna see it, then? Or nah.” He was watching Parvis intently, eyes dancing with amusement despite the careful non-smile of his lips.

“...Yeah,” said Parvis, after a moment, totally failing to carry off the casual nonchalance he had been aiming for. His voice shook a little, despite the slowness already beginning to floor his veins with warm molasses. “Yeah, I mean- if you’re that desperate to get your dick out. Whatever.”

Ridge laughed, loud and rich, even as his free hand drifted to his crotch and popped the button on his worn jeans. “Easy, cowboy,” he mocked, pushing the zipper down and tugging on the waistband of his boxers. “I’m offering a show, not a test drive.”

Any response Parv might have had to that died in his throat as Ridge slipped fingers beneath his waistband to tug his dick out. Even soft, Ridge was huge, a generously thick handful of cut dick that he settled easily in the vee of his jeans.

Parv’s breath caught in his chest without him really understanding why, and he watched intently as Ridge settled the waistband of his boxers behind the heavy weight of his balls. He’d exposed himself so easily, so casually, sat there on his own bed with his cock and balls out and someone else watching as if he did this on a weekly basis.

For all Parv knew, he might well do. The thought made his head spin a little.

Aware of his audience, Ridge grinned even wider, curling his hand lightly around his own dick with a quiet sigh. He ran the hand down his own length, slowly, savouring the sensation, until glinting metal emerged along with the tip of his dick from his fist.

“I got the Prince Albert for myself for my eighteenth,” said Ridge, rubbing his thumb over the ball at the top of an obscenely thick horseshoe barbell in his glans. It dipped down through the tip of his dick and emerged below the head, underneath, a solid weight in his dick. The ball dipped down with the pressure of his thumb, pushing the curve of metal down through his dick and making the other end of the barbell rise up.

Barely suppressing a shudder at the friction _inside_ him as the metal shifted, Ridge licked his lips. He shifted his thumb down to press against the much thinner, straighter barbell less than a half-inch down the shaft from where the Prince Albert exited. “Got the frenum for my twentieth. That one stung like a motherfucker for some reason, but the Prince Albert wasn’t too bad, considering. Bled a lot, though.”

He let go of his dick, not bothering to tuck it back in but leaving it hanging out of his jeans as he leant back against the wall. “So, yeah. Not shitting you.” Ridge grinned wide, eyes half-lidded and tongue touched to his teeth in an expression of pure sleaze as he took another drag on the joint and blew the resultant smoke into Parvis’ face. “What d’you think?”

Parvis cringed away from the face-full smoke instinctively, half-curling into Ridge, though his eyes were still on the length of Ridge’s exposed dick. "That’s- a lot of metal for one dick,” he said, a little doubtfully - though with the size of Ridge’s dick, even soft, it didn’t look it. The thickness of the Prince Albert looked almost proportional.

Ridge laughed, a sharp bark of sound that ended in the click of his teeth as his mouth snapped shut. “I’m gonna get more,” he said, thoughtfully, sighing as he looked down at his own dick and the glints of metal at the tip of it. “For my twenty-fifth this year. Yeah. Gonna get the start of a Jacob’s ladder, I think, all the way down...”

He slipped a finger and traced it down the underside of his shaft - and, this time, he couldn’t hold back the slight shiver as his dick twitched at the touch. “You’re not tempted by any pretty jewellery then, Parv?”

“My parents’d kill me,” muttered Parvis, picking at a loose loop of thread on his jeans with bitten-ragged fingernails. “Also, needles. _Creepy_. Wouldn’t want them near my perfect dick.”

Ridge snorted. “Says the kid that plays with knives,” he pointed out, evenly. “And- _jesus_ , Parvis, you don’t tell your fucking parents.” He shook his head, amusement curling his mouth up at the edges in easy crinkles. “It’s not like I got it and went home swinging my dick in circles. _Hey, mommy, look what I_ -”

“Ridge?” said Parvis, quietly, voice suddenly oddly flat. Somewhere along the line, his eyes had gone very cold and very blank. “Shut the fuck up.”

For a moment, silence reigned, the whole world quiet other than the sounds of Kirin cooking dinner in the kitchen, a distant car horn through the open window, Ridge’s even breathing and Parvis’ stuttering exhales.

“...Touchy subject, right,” muttered Ridge, eventually, pressing his nose into the soft mess of Parvis’ hair by way of an almost-apology. It smelled of copper and nicotine and too-strong Lynx body spray, under the burnt oily-sweetness of the weed. “I forgot.”

Parvis snorted, tugging harder at the loose thread until it tore. “I’m glad you _can_ ,” he said, an edge to his voice sharper than the switchblade shoved into the pocket of his skinny jeans. The tight coil of _something_ in him softened, though, when Ridge caught his chin with gentle fingers. “Yeah, yeah. I know. I _know_.”

“Good,” murmured Ridge, taking another drag on the steadily-dying joint, fingers tightening until they were pressing tender bruises into the thin skin of Parvis’ jaw. “That’s good.”

He pressed their lips together, before Parvis had a chance to wriggle, to pull away. When his mouth opened wet and soft against Parvis’ chapped lips, any thoughts Parvis had had of wrenching free were lost in the dizzying closeness of it. Ridge held him bruise-tight and intimate, breathing down into his lungs - held him there until Parvis had gone lax against him again, until their chests were burning and both of them were starving for oxygen.

When they broke apart, Parvis choked out the smoke in a heavy cloud, eyes watering, and gasped in air like he’d just died and been reborn.

It was so easy to stay there, overlong limbs dragged in so he could sit curled into the hollow of Ridge’s arm and side. The breeze from the window was a sharp bite of cold against his bare arms, but Ridge was warm, _impossibly_ warm - and the smoke he kept breathing down Parvis’ throat, pressed lips-to-lips, was even warmer. Ridge’s trousers were still open, the soft length of his dick still tugged through the vee of his zip, but that didn’t bother him.

Like this, everything fuzzy-edged and easy, it felt as though nothing could.

The joint burnt down to an ember, glowing as orange-gold as Ridge’s eyes were in the low light from outside, short enough to burn his fingers. He sighed, exhaled a final mouthful of smoke, and flicked it out the window

“You mind?” he asked, and Parvis wasn’t sure what he was asking, but he shook his head anyways. He wouldn’t mind anything if it meant staying here, Ridge’s breath stirring his hair and Ridge’s customary coat rough beneath his cheek where he’d tipped his head to rest it on Ridge’s shoulder

Ridge sighed again, eyes softening, lips curling up into a shadow of his customary smirk. “You’re a good kid,” he offered - high praise indeed, praise Parvis preened over silently with pinked cheeks and a poorly-hidden half-smile - and took his dick in his newly-freed hand, broad palm and thick fingers curling around the softness of it.

It should have been weird, sitting next to another guy just casually jerking off, but it was _fascinating_. Parv couldn’t tear his eyes away from how Ridge’s hand moved, from the slow, dry drag of the skin of his dick up and down with every stroke, from the glint of metal as the piercings appeared and then vanished again with each tug of his fist.

Eventually he paused, grunted in frustration, and let go, lifting his hand to his mouth and licking a wet, shiny stripe across his palm. “Better,” he muttered, dropping a hand now dripping with spit to curl around the hard length of his cock. It had looked big when soft, and looked even bigger now, thick and fat and slick enough that Parvis half-wanted to touch it just to make sure it was _real_.

He didn’t, though - just sat there, watching, hands tucked into his lap, breathing.

It seemed like forever that Ridge sat there, jerking off slow and unhurried, dick shiny with spit and its metal decorations. He made the kind of quiet noises people used to thin walls and pissy flatmates made - ragged exhales, stuttering hitches of breath, the odd grunt when the teeth he’d sunk into his own lip didn’t manage to keep him quiet. The slick noises he made fucking his fist were louder than he actually was, obscenely wet and filthy.

As he got closer, he got louder, the noise of Kirin clanking around in the kitchen comfortingly distant enough for him to get bold. His head thumped against the wall as he tilted it back, eyes scrunched shut, face half-lit and heavily shadowed in the orange-ish glow of the street lamps as he cursed and gasped.

Ridge tensed right before he came - Parv could feel it, the sudden stiffness in the shoulder under his head, the way Ridge hunched a little - and pressed the pad of his thumb just below the frenum piercing. “Fuck,” he gasped, bitten-pink lips parted, tongue pressed behind the gap in his two front teeth. “Fuck, aww _fuck_ -”

He came across the rumpled bedsheets open-mouthed and shuddering, groaning, fist tight around his dick. Half-haloed in gold from the open window, he was something entirely _more_ than human in that moment, basking in base pleasure and touched by the light of the city.

“Fuck,” he muttered, when he finally cracked an eye open, looking at the mess and exhaling unevenly. “...Ah well.” He kicked at the stains with one foot, smudging them further into the sheets. “Need to wash it all soon anyways. Whatever.”

Wrinkling his nose, Parvis tugged his legs a little closer - further away from the stains - and crossed them in front of him, tucking feet covered in dark, holey socks under skinny thighs and knobbly knees hidden under the dark denim of his skinny jeans. “Gross,” he mumbled, as Ridge tucked himself back into his boxers and jeans with a faint hiss at the touch of skin on oversensitive skin.

“You want me to...?” asked Ridge, vaguely, when he was finished, resting a broad, warm hand high up on Parvis’ inner thigh. This time, the question was more than clear, impossible to misinterpret.

Parvis considered for a long second, time stretched slow and thin, and then shook his head. “Nah,” he said shifting his head to find a more comfortable position against Ridge’s shoulder and stretching out a little. “I’m good.”

“Suit yourself, you weird little fuck,” said Ridge, shrugging, tipping his head back to stare at the swirling pattern of bumps on the ceiling. “Undergrad turning down a handjob. _Hah_. Never thought I’d see the fucking day.”

“You know me,” murmured Parvis against the fabric of Ridge’s coat, his breath brushing the skin of Ridge’s neck enough to make him shiver. “Parvy likes to keep people on their toes. Switch it up” He paused for a moment, the warm lethargy spreading through him making talking an unpalatably complicated task. “...Can I take a rain check? For the morning.”

Somewhere to their right, through a couple of walls, there was the unmistakeable sound of saucepan against tile. Kirin yelped, and then swore. Ridge grinned.

“You inviting yourself for a sleepover, Parvis?” he asked, glancing out the window. The last of the dark bruising of evening had faded, leaving the sky pitch black where it wasn’t yellowed with light pollution. Somewhere above the distant line of the tower blocks and skyscrapers of the city centre, a waning moon was rising, pale and ghostly in the bright city night air.

Humming softly, Parv nodded. His eyes were half-closed already, thin strips of white and black. His eyelashes against his cheeks were thick, shockingly dark, and Ridge was struck with the sudden urge to brush a finger past them, to see if they were as soft as they looked.

“...Pushing your fuckin’ luck there, kid,” he said, eventually, settling on pulling the arm around Parvis’ shoulders a little tighter to tuck them both closer together. “I’m telling you. It’s a good thing I like you.”

“Yeah, yeah”, muttered Parvis, managing a faint giggle of amusement as his eyes slipped even further closer. “Whatever. You love me.”

Ridge snorted, but said nothing. Resting his head against the wall behind him, he stared up at the ceiling again - at the lumps and whorls of the plaster, at the white paint peeling towards the edges, at the dancing lights passing cars sent arcing across it. In his right ear, Parvis’ breathing evened out, and slowed, until it was the steady snuffle of a light sleeper at tentative peace.

To his left, life poured in through the open window despite the steadily approaching midnight, people and cars and sirens and music in a soft, long-familiar babble. There was light, and a breeze, and sound, a hundred thousand people with their own lives, the own rooms, and not a single care as to what was going on in this one in particular.

In the kitchen across the flat, Kirin was washing up - the quiet babble of water, the low hum of the radio on quiet, the clink of crockery and cutlery. His voice drifted through the walls as he raised it to sing along to whatever was playing, a low rumble of rich sound at the edge of hearing. In his sleep, Parvis twitched, breath hitching as he curled closer still into Ridge, and then was still.

Breathing in, Ridge let his eyes slip closed, and exhaled.


End file.
